Puckzilla Is Bad For Tourism
by Fearful Little Thing
Summary: Puckzilla is about to destroy Tokyo  again , and then along comes not-so-squealy tourist Kurt. Total unapologetic crack.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Bad For Tourism  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: Originally I wrote this as a quick and ridiculous response to a prompt, but now that it has spiralled into something even crazier I've decided it's time to put it up here. This story is unapologetic crack even worse than the bear!verse and contains a weird hint of Puck/Kurt that may turn into romance at some point. So if you're turned off by the idea of giant lizard-man/Kurt it might be a good idea to just leave now.

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* * *

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Being a large, technologically advanced metropolis was not always a good thing. Everyone who lived in the city knew that Tokyo had a large, invisible target painted right in the centre of the CBD. War? Tokyo would be bombed. Terrorism? Tokyo would be suicide-bombed. Zombies? The city had the highest density of people per square metre in the northern hemisphere*, everyone was doomed. If you were going to live in Tokyo you had to live with the silent threat of semi-irrational doom. Residents knew full well that at any second an earthquake might awaken some giant slumbering beast that would come down from Mt. Fuji to destroy the city.

Tourists on the other hand...

Kurt Hummel stood at the window of his twenty-second storey hotel room and stared, mouth open, at the chaos just a few streets away from him. Slack-jawed and full of disbelief he barely remembered that he was in the middle of a phone call with his best friend until her voice chimed into his ear; "Kurt?... Kurt! Are you there? Don't tell me this damn thing aint getting any coverage _again_..."

"Mercedes," Kurt breathed, brought back to reality (reality apparently still had monsters). "There's a giant lizard destroying downtown Tokyo."

"... have you been drinking?"

"No! No, I swear it's true. I don't drink on business trips."

Spurred into action somehow Kurt dashed for the remote and turned on the TV, looking for some kind of news. He flicked through three stations until he found what looked like a news report. A calm, pretty female anchor was explaining the situation, current headlines running in a red stream along the bottom of the screen. Behind her was a green screen showing current live footage of downtown, people shrieking as they ran, blurred footage of large green scaly feet stomping about. Every so often someone would run right in front of the camera and the sound would pick up shrieks of "Puckzilla!", the soft l almost like an r.

"Oh my God it's on the news," Kurt told Mercedes. He watched, catching only one word in three, until suddenly an alarm went off and someone was pounding on his door. "I have to go," he said hastily into the handset, "I'll call you back later." Kurt tucked his phone into the inside of his suit jacket and flung open the door. "Yes?"

A man in the uniform of a hotel attendant bowed to him. "Excuse me sir," he said in accented English, "Puckzilla will be here soon, the hotel must be evacuated. Hotel insurance will cover any lost valuables and we will provide temporary accommodation should the hotel be destroyed. Please hurry before the elevators are disconnected."

The man bowed again, then hurried down the hall to knock on the next door down. Kurt almost suspected a prank until he heard the word 'Puckzilla' again amidst the rapid Japanese. Kurt stepped back inside the hotel room long enough to grab his passport and wallet, then hurried to the elevators. The lobby was chaos, with people everywhere all streaming towards the doors. Kurt was caught up in the madness and before he knew it he was being pushed out onto the street. He stood there a moment, dazed and disorientated, not sure where to go or what to do. He barely noticed that the crowd had made a hasty retreat until he found himself practically alone.

"Where...?" he asked himself, spinning around.

"Grrraaaaargh!" Something large and aggressive answered from behind him in a roar that made his toes curl and his hair stand on end.

Slowly, terrified, Kurt turned back around to face the source of the noise. Peering out from a nearby alleyway was a creature at least three times as tall as a man. Its face was eerily human, as was its body, which only made the rest of it look so much less human. It was green, covered in pebbled, scaly skin, with claws on its large paw-like hands and feet. A large, whiplike tail curved from the base of its spine, and a spray of small spikes down the middle of its head made it look like it had a mohawk.

"Puckzilla?" Kurt squeaked.

The creature roared at him in response, and tore a chunk out of a building with a forepaw. Rubble scattered in all directions, concrete pebbles peppering the ground at Kurt's feet. The creature took a step forward and the pebbles shook. It took another step, and another, and Kurt found that he was too terrified to move. The creature reached for him.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut and let out the girliest, most embarrassing wail he'd ever had pass his lips. He waited to be squashed or crushed or picked up and eaten but seconds passed without a thing happening. Slowly he cracked open his eyes, only to see the creature staring at him with its head cocked to the side. Kurt had the sudden and inappropriately-timed thought that this was not the sort of working vacation he'd had in mind when he'd booked that three week trip to showcase his design work. He stared back at the creature. And on impulse cocked his head to the side like it had.

In response it cocked its head in the other direction.

"So..." Kurt began, his voice unnaturally tight. "Are you... not going to eat me?"

The creature slowly dropped down into a crouch, its forepaws touching the sidewalk just a few short yard in front of him. Kurt decided to take that as a 'no'.

"Well," Kurt joked uncomfortably, to the sound of helicopters flying overhead. "I'm certainly not going to eat you... So..." He glanced up at the helicopters, then back at the giant green creature crouched in front of him. "You're Puckzilla?"

"Graah," the creature - Puckzilla agreed with a growl.

"I'm Kurt Hummel."

"K'Hmmm."

"Close enough," Kurt conceded, wondering where the hell the airforce was. Or the police. Or the Monster Exterminators or whatever this damn city had to get rid of giant destructive Puckzilla-things. Puckzilla-things that were now looking at him in open fascination, as if wondering why this scrawny little pale thing wasn't running away screaming like the rest of the humans. Well, Kurt decided, he may as well stall so they had some time to get the rest of the area evacuated. "So... Do you come here often?"

"Graargh."

"Right. Silly question. Well... I suppose we can talk about me until the Monster Exterminators get here." Kurt cleared his throat. Surely it wouldn't be long until help came. "Let's see... I'm twenty-three, a graduate of Stanford University, and a Sagittarius. I run a small clothing design company that I'm in Tokyo here trying to expand."

Puckzilla sat down and arranged himself comfortably, head still cocked to one side as he listened to the small pale thing talk. He inched a little closer every few minutes until finally he managed to get the small creature to actually sit on his leg as it talked. It seemed that all he needed to do to keep it talking was rumble an affirmative every so often and it was happy. Once, after it had laughed at what he assumed was a funny anecdote to do with expensive cars (he wasn't paying attention), Puckzilla tried petting the small creature. He was very careful to be gentle as he touched his paw to its head and stroked down its back, but the creature still jumped and squeaked just the same.

"Grrraaah," Puck rumbled softly to sooth it. He was considering taking it home as a pet.

He wondered what it ate. And what it would look like without it's suit in the way (which was admittedly a little odd, because he'd never been attracted to small pale things before, but granted he -was- the last of his species so it wasn't like he had other options past the lobster-monster that lived in the bay).

Kurt yawned. His throat was starting to get dry from talking for so long and there was still no sign of help coming. The helicopters circled over every so often, but he'd been able to make out the logo of a news channel painted onto the side of one of them so he could only assume they were news crews and not military. It was actually starting to get dark.

"You know," Kurt said croakily, and patted the creature's thigh, "you're not so bad really. When you're not destroying things and ruining my working vacation, of course."

"Graah," Puckzilla murmured, nudging him with its forepaw again. "K'Hmmm."

"That's my name," Kurt agreed.

Puckzilla gently nudged him off his perch on its leg. It stretched, rolling up into a crouch before standing up properly again. "Graaaooorrrgrahk'hmm," it said, a questioning lilt at the end.

"Yes, of course," Kurt replied, hoping to keep it happy.

It occurred to him, as he was being carried off back through the trail of destruction, that perhaps he should have asked for clarification. "Hello, Mercedes?" he said into his mobile. "Sorry it took me so long to call back, but I was talking to a giant green lizard-man and now he seems to be carrying me off back to his lair. Do you think you could maybe contact the American consulate in Tokyo to see what they can do about this?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Not A Breakfast Chef  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: It goes downhill from here.

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The mouth of the cave was large, dry, and cluttered with bits of miscellaneous debris. Part of a car sat to one side, half-covered by dry branches. The floor was studded with quartz and other smooth, sparkly stones. There were animal bones hidden amongst the rubble, cracked and splintered to the point where they were almost unrecognisable. Kurt took all of this in from where he was slung over the Puck-monster's shoulder. His phone had lost reception half way to the mountain. He suspected it was because of all the powerlines Puckzilla had toppled.

"If you think," Kurt began, "that I'm cleaning all this up for you then you have another thing coming."

Puckzilla rumbled something that sounded like an affirmative, distracted and not paying all that much attention.

"And don't think the Americans will just let me rot here. I'm a citizen. I have rights. And one of those rights is to not be kidnapped by large green lizard-men in foreign countries."

The next rumble sounded suspiciously like 'whatever'. Kurt sighed, propping himself up so he could see more of the creature's lair as it was revealed. The mouth of the cave shrank in size the further in they got, until it was 'small' enough that Puckzilla had to duck to get through. The cave they emerged into was massive, and mostly hidden in shadow. A hole seemed to have been punched through the roof of the cave, providing sparse illumination over a natural well of water. The rest of the cave was mostly dark, but Kurt could see enough of the shapes in the darkness to recognise ledges and hollows along the walls.

The place smelled damp and musty, like moss.

Suddenly Kurt was moving again, large pawlike hands wrapped carefully around his middle. He didn't struggle, too afraid of falling, and let the creature place him down on the ground by the pool of water. Kurt looked around, half expecting a gaggle of Puck-monster babies to come running out of the shadows to devour him. The cave seemed a whole lot bigger from down here, though he supposed to a creature of Puck's size it was comfortably large.

When nothing happened and Puckzilla just crouched down nearby in a clearly nonthreatening pose Kurt took a hesitant step towards the water. Again, nothing happened, so Kurt approached the water with a little less caution. Thoughts of typhoid and hepatitis swirling around his brain like a thousand travel-warning brochures he crouched down at the edge and cupped his hands together to drink. The water tasted like stone, but it was refreshing and cool. He gulped down several mouthfuls before he noticed that Puckzilla was still watching him.

"What?"

"Grah." The monster shook its head and waited for Kurt to finish drinking hefore it reached out a hand and gently poked Kurt in the direction of one of those shadowy ledges.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but eventually Kurt could see that this particular ledge was at waist-height (to him, not to the Puck-beast) and covered in a soft mossy vegetation that felt dry to the touch. Another poke from Puckzilla and Kurt climbed up onto the ledge, not really getting the point. "Ok," he said, standing on the mossy ledge. "I'm here. What -?"

He had been about to say 'what now' when Puck poked him in the stomach just hard enough for him to overbalance and fall onto his butt.

Dismayed, Kurt's first thought was for his pants and the stains they may now have. Then he started wondering why the hell Puckzilla would want him sitting on a soft mossy ledge in a dark cave and... Oh. No. No way. "I am not sleeping with you!" Kurt exclaimed, then clapped a hand over his mouth. That had come out sounding much different that it had in his head. "Here," he corrected himself. "I am not sleeping in here, in this cave, with you."

Puckzilla just gave him a look.

Kurt crossed his arms.

Puckzilla poked him again, this time in the chest right above his crossed arms, and Kurt fell back onto the moss with a soft 'oof'. A second later something soft and vaguely pillow-like was dumped on top of him. Well, Kurt thought to himself as he struggled out from underneath the giant pillow, it iwas/i dark and there was no way he was getting down the mountain on his own in the dark without any gear. He arranged himself on the mossy shelf and twisted about until he was comfortable, silently mourning the loss of a nice suit. The once perfectly pressed beige suit was dry clean only. This adventure with the Puck-monster and kidnap was going to leave it ruined.

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When Kurt woke up he could only assume it was the middle of the night. The cave was dark, speckled with tiny pinpoints of light that might have been either stars or glow worms. Through some miracle his phone was currently buzzing against his hip, the screen lighting up his jacket pocket from within.

Kurt sat up, desperately groping for the phone. He noticed only after he had the phone in hand that somehow Puckzilla had managed to squeeze onto the shelf behind him and was currently snoring softly just two feet away. Kurt hesitated a moment, feared that whoever was calling would give up, and answered anyway with a quietly hissed "Hello?"

"Is this Kurt Hummel?"

"Yes?" Kurt replied, though it came out sounding more like a question than a confirmation. So much weirdness had happened in such a short time that it was a wonder he hadn't had some kind of existential crisis yet. He cleared his throat and tried again; "Yes, this is Kurt."

"I'm glad to have reached you, Mr. Hummel. My name is Kenji Kimura, I'm with the Department of Mythological and Medical Studies in Tokyo. Is Puckzilla with you?"

"Yes," Kurt replied, glancing over his shoulder at the creature behind him. For a moment he had the bizarre thought that Mr. Kimura was about to ask him to put Puckzilla on the phone. "He's asleep," Kurt added. "I'm in his cave right now," he added, "and I'm pretty sure I can get to the exit without any trouble, so if you're calling to tell me that someone is on their way to rescue me...?"

Mr. Kimura cut him off with a soft, friendly laugh. "Mr. Hummel, I apologise. I suspect you will receive contact from the American Consulate in the morning. However, we are more efficient and understand that this must be a shocking transition to make -"

"Transition!" Kurt exclaimed, then shot a glance at the sleeping Puckzilla and lowered his voice. "What do you mean 'transition'?"

"You will, of course, be granted full citizenship," Mr. Kimura continued, as if he hadn't heard Kurt's outburst, "in light of your new employment, and we will arrange to have a monthly stipend sent to your account. You may nominate a beneficiary to receive the contents of your account should you die before Puckzilla tires of you."

"You mean this has happened before!" Kurt hissed into the phone, suddenly terrified that some of the bones he'd seen littering the mouth of the cave were actually human.

Mr. Kimura chuckled pleasantly. "Of course not! This is the first time. It's a big honour, Mr. Hummel. You are being hailed as Tokyo's saviour."

"So nobody's coming to get me?"

"Your belongings from the hotel will be left at the 500ft mark as close to Puckzilla's cave as possible. Good luck Mr. Hummel, Tokyo thanks you."

"Mr. Kimura!" Kurt started, about to shout out a 'wait' when the light from the phone dimmed, indicating that Mr. Kimura had already hung up.

Kurt stared at the phone, noting the power bar at the top of the screen was only at a quarter. It would be dead by this time tomorrow, if not sooner. He tucked the phone back into his jacket and covered his face with his hands. It was cold, his pants were no doubt stained beyond repair, and he had been kidnapped by a giant lizard-man. And now he had absolute proof that the Japanese Government weren't going to do a damn thing about it except pay into an account he couldn't even use as long as he was stuck up the damn mountain. Kurt didn't even realise he was crying until a soft rumble piped up behind him.

He gasped and scrubbed at his eyes. "It's nothing," he said automatically.

Puckzilla growled sleepily and reached out a hand to drag Kurt the couple of feet that separated them until the human was against his belly. Kurt thought about struggling but he figured he'd had enough trouble already without provoking the creature. Besides, Puckzilla was warm. Like a huge electric blanket against his back. Kurt gingerly settled down beside the lizard-man. "Don't squash me," he warned.

"Grrrrffff." Puckzilla mumbled, which Kurt decided was an 'I wont'.

He had no idea how he was going to get back to sleep now.

Somehow he must have fallen asleep because when he woke up it was clearly light outside, sunlight beaming down into the pool of water on the other side of the cave. Kurt stretched, surprised to discover that Puckzilla was no longer lying behind him on the ledge. Instead, sitting on a flat stone on the moss in front of him, a pile of berries were his only company. Breakfast, he supposed. How thoughtful.

Kurt slowly got up and lowered himself down to the cave floor. He walked across to the water and stopped in the sunlight to look down at himself in dismay. His once-perfect suit was covered in large green stains from the moss. He could only imagine what his hair looked like.

"No dry cleaners up here," he quipped dryly to the absent Puckzilla. "No wonder you're wearing loincloth chic."

He supposed he should be grateful the monster actually wore anything at all.

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[ No representative from America ever contacted Kurt Hummel. Several months later he would get his hands on a scrap of newspaper that claimed that America was very disappointed with how the "Kurt Hummel Situation" was being handled and would be demanding an inquest, but that they were unable to take further action at this time. He would take that to mean that his government had simply chosen not to act as a means to keeping good relations with Japan. What was one small-time designer against international diplomacy? ]

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Kurt had checked his phone three times, washed his face, and attempted to get the stains from his jacket with nothing more than water and some sand from the edge of the pool when Puckzilla finally returned. The creature ducked in through the cave entrance and for a second Kurt thought it had somehow bought itself a designer clutch purse. A hysterical giggle nearly found its way out of his mouth before he realised that the thing Puckzilla was carrying was actually the suitcase Kurt had left at the hotel.

Puckzilla placed the suitcase down on top of the same ledge that Kurt had slept on, then made a questioning noise when he saw that the berries remained untouched.

"I'm not hungry," Kurt replied aloud, taking a guess at what the noise meant.

"Grr?"

"Because I'm just not."

"Grrf?"

Kurt sighed, turning back to the task of attempting to scrub his jacket. "Leave me alone. I'm not in the mood to talk to you."

Puckzilla was silent for all of ten seconds. Then Kurt found himself being pushed into the water. He yelped as he went under, the pool a lot deeper than it looked even just a step or two from the edge. Kurt came up with a gasp, flailing and spitting water. Furious he glared at the lizard-man from under his bangs, hair plastered to his scalp. He just got madder when he realised the creature was laughing at him.

Kurt struggled out of the surprisingly deep water and sloshed his way over to the creature. Since he couldn't reach high enough to actually slap the thing in the face he settled for whacking its leg. "That is _not_ funny! I am wet, I am tired, my clothes are _ruined_, and I think I just dropped my phone in your stupid pool!" He punctuated each sentence with another whack, until his hand was practically numb. "And thanks to you kidnapping me I am about to start going through caffiene withdrawals! _Do you know what that's like_!"

Puckzilla actually darted out of the way of Kurt's next slap, a large hand creeping down to rub his leg. If Kurt had to translate the creature's whine he would have guessed it to be a 'well what am I supposed to do about that!'

"Get me a damn mocha!" Kurt snapped. "Now!"

The lizard-man stared at him, as if asking if he were serious. Then, much to Kurt's surprise Puckzilla actually turned and ducked out of the cave, muttering under his breath. Kurt stood there for a moment, then jogged to the mouth of the cave and out to the path that Puckzilla was currently trudging down, headed towards the base of the mountain. Kurt thought about trying to follow, but he'd never be able to catch up.

Instead he stomped back into the cave and to his suitcase, where he stripped off his sopping wet clothes and changed into something dry.

Half an hour later Puckzilla returned to the cave, carrying what looked like the entire counter of a cafe, including espresso machine. He dumped the counter just inside the cave mouth and gave Kurt a look that clearly asked if the human was happy now.

Kurt stared, mouth open, at the somewhat battered display counter still full of muffins and pastries, then at the espresso machine which had somehow managed to retain all of its pieces and a couple of cracked mugs. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I think that will do."

"Grrraaarrarrgh," Puckzilla said.

Clearly they needed to work on their communication.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Not Wearing Pants  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: Currently polling opinions as to whether or not this story should include _reciprocated_ romantic feelings. Do you want Puckzilla and Kurt to find love? Tell me in your reviews.

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The small, opinionated, occasionally loud creature was fascinating. Frankly, Puckzilla found it hard not to keep staring at the thing. It stalked around the cave like it owned the place, clearly less than happy with its current situation. Puckzilla watched in fascination as the Kurt-thing stalked back and forth across the cave, drinking from one of the mugs that had come with the espresso machine. At least it seemed pleased with that. He sort of wanted Kurt to be pleased, to enjoy living with him.

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Kurt explored the cave and its surrounding areas as thoroughly as he dared over the course of the next few days. He discovered a path a short distance from the cave which led to a ledge large enough for a creature of Puckzilla's size to comfortably sit. The view was both spectacular and terrifying. Depressing too, because Kurt couldn't see himself hiking that distance down the mountain in dress shoes or without a lot of help. He couldn't even count on somehow finding a way to persuade Puckzilla to carry him down, since the creature seemed determined that Kurt was there to stay. He was even clearly doing his best to make sure that Kurt was comfortable, and sure to provide portions of food at the appropriate times during the day. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and Kurt really didn't want to know where on earth the Puck-creature managed to find cooked chicken.

On the morning of the third day after having woken up to discover that yet again Puckzilla had somehow managed to curl around him without squashing or waking him up, Kurt decided that he may as well get settled in.

It was a strange and depressing thought, imagining that this cave could be his home for the next few weeks (or even months) while lawyers and diplomats mustered their arguments to try and take on the Japanese government and save him. Failing that, Kurt was still pretty sure that his family and friends wouldn't just leave him here to rot. It would take a while, but he knew that there would be a Hummel-headed search party eventually. Mercedes wouldn't let it rest either.

With that in mind it didn't feel so painful to carefully open up his suitcase and find a nice, dry nook to store his clothes and toiletries.

It was getting to the point where a bath in the cave pool was starting to look very tempting. He just wasn't sure whether or not he could actually use soap, uncertain of whether or not the pool connected to any sort of running water. He stood there in bare feet by the edge of the pool, travel soap in hand, and contemplated the probability of the soap spoiling his drinking water. In the end he decided to chance it, the chance to wash off moss-stains and sweat worth the risk of water that tasted vaguely like soap.

Kurt stripped off slowly, taking the time to fold his clothes and set them aside where they wouldn't get wet. Then, with soap in hand, he gingerly stepped into the pool of water. It was cold, but not unpleasantly so, his body adjusting to the temperature fairly quickly. He stayed close to the edge, keeping away from the centre of the pool where the water was too deep to stand. The soap smelled sort of like lavender and frothed up quickly into a lather between his hands. Kurt had just started washing suds from his torso when he realised he was being watched.

He turned, self-conscious, to see Puckzilla crouched down just a few short metres away, his head almost exactly at Kurt's eye level.

"What?" Kurt asked primly, nose in the air and trying not to feel weird about the fact that he was naked in the middle of a cave pool with a giant lizard-man watching him. "See something you like?"

He realised he should have kept his mouth shut when Puckzilla smirked at him.

Kurt blushed and turned away again, muttering; "Of all the impossible supernatural creatures to get kidnapped by /I/ get to be kidnapped by the one who's also a perv."

He did his best to just ignore the creature watching him, which proved to be more difficult than anticipated when all of a sudden large green limbs started lowering themselves into the water. Kurt yelped, expecting a wave of displaced water to come crashing over him. When nothing happened he cracked open his eyes in time to see the lizard-man settling into the deeper waters of the pool, almost invisible from the waist down in the shadow. Kurt was struck by how much deeper the pool must be than what he'd thought. It also defied physics. Or Puckzilla defied physics. It just suddenly seemed like the relatively large pool of cool, clean water was so much smaller than it had been before.

"Ok, so. Bath." Kurt said nervously, inching back towards the edge of the pool a little.

Puckzilla rumbled a response, sinking further into the water and stretching out until he seemed to take up the entire space. He looked relaxed, content enough that Kurt would guess he'd done this sort of thing plenty of times before... though maybe not with company. Puckzilla settled in the water, reflections from the pool creating ripples of light against the green of his skin.

Something brushed against Kurt's leg and he looked down in surprise to see Puckzilla's tail curling out of the deeper water to rest close to where he stood. The tail curved further, brushing up against the back of Kurt's thigh. The sensation made Kurt jump, inadvertently stumbling forward a step into deeper water. He looked up at Puckzilla's smirking face and accused; "You did that on purpose."

Another brush, this time against his backside, and Kurt yelped.

Puckzilla chuckled, the laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

Kurt glared at him, which was evidently a lot less effective when wet and naked. He yelped again when one of Puckzilla's large hands slid around his waist and yanked him deeper into the pool. Within moments the water was too deep for Kurt to feel the bottom. He found himself grabbing hold of Puckzilla's arm instead, drawn close to the creature until he was leaning against a large, warm chest.

He realised he'd dropped his soap.

A second later he realised that Puckzilla actually appeared to be purring. At least, he assumed that was what the soft rumbling vibration coming from his chest was. Kurt sighed and settled himself in the sling made by Puckzilla's arm. The creature was warm enough that he could stand to stay in the water for a while.

"K'Hmmrrrrrr," Puckzilla purred, the sound echoing a little in the cave.

"I have the feeling you were a very lonely monster," Kurt sighed.

"Mmm," the creature agreed with a sigh that ruffled Kurt's hair.

Kurt frowned. There was something he'd been curious about for a while now, actually since taking the time to think about how exactly Puckzilla always seemed to know what he was saying. "Are you bilingual?" he asked, tilting his head back to look up at Puckzilla's face. "You're only native to Japan or I'm sure I would've heard of you before, so obviously you must understand Japanese. But how did you learn English?"

Puck gave him a look. And grunted dismissively, as if the idea of being a bilingual lizard-beast wasn't in the least bit unusual. (Of course to him it obviously wasn't.)

"Can you speak?" Kurt asked pointedly, "or do you just make noises? Because I can see our conversations being very one-sided."

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* * *

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Puckzilla looked down at Kurt, a little bemused as to why he had to ruin a perfectly good moment of nudity and relaxation with talking. On the plus side... Hey, nudity. And despite the lack of tail (and the obvious size difference) he had to admit that the smaller creature was more than a little attractive. Even more so than the lobster monster in the bay. This could work, he thought. Kurt seemed pretty comfortable pressed up against him, and he seemed to be settling into the cave pretty well.

Now all Puckzilla had to do was start with the wooing. Somehow. How did the small pink things do romance anyway?

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* * *

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Eventually Kurt gave up on getting any kind of sensible answer out of the lizard-man and instead just sat there in the water pouting while Puckzilla purred. After a while he noticed that his skin was starting to prickle with goose bumps even despite Puck's warm skin pressed against his side. Kurt shivered, deciding it was about time he got out of the water.

"I think I need to get out now," he said aloud.

Kurt pushed himself gently away from Puck and swam to the edge of the pool, half expecting one of those big green hands to haul him back again. He managed to get out of the pool before he realised his next problem, something that made him realise he hadn't thought this bath idea through very well. The only towel he had was a tiny travel-sized affair that had been stuffed into his suitcase just in case of emergency. It wasn't quite big enough to wrap around his hips and definitely not big enough to properly dry himself with.

He picked it up anyway and did his best to get most of the water from his body, uncomfortably aware of his large lizardlike audience.

Kurt hoped he was imagining the soft noise of disappointment when he pulled on a pair of clean underpants, and the sigh when he grabbed a pair of jeans. "I hope you know it's considered creepy to stare at someone when they're getting dressed."

Puckzilla flicked water at him.

"Creep."

Kurt couldn't help but notice that the Puck-creature didn't seem to care about the insult. He had a new shirt on, almost completely buttoned up when he heard the sound of water splashing and turned around in time to see Puckzilla getting out of the pool. Kurt's mouth dropped open. He hadn't noticed before what was completely impossible not to notice now. Puckzilla was naked and ("Oh my God", Kurt gasped) very human from the waist down.

And also big. Kurt flushed bright red and turned away. Very big. Which made sense, proportionately speaking, since the rest of Puckzilla was also very big.

"We need to get you some pants," Kurt muttered to himself.

He could swear he heard Puckzilla chuckling at him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Decisive and Romantic  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack. Implied sexual imagery, a tiny bit of swearing.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: The full name of this installment is actually "Puckzilla is Decisive and Romantic, Which Are Totally Desirable Qualities", but that seemed a little long. Also, the 'yes' has it. So beware. From here there be lurking romance.

.

* * *

.

Puckzilla had spent a lot of time observing humans. He was old, the last of his kind. It didn't show, because he looked damn freakin' good for his age, but he'd been around for a long, long time. In that time the mating rituals of humans didn't seem to have changed much. The physically dominant, most often male, partner would woo their intended with gifts and praise... often getting shot down in the process until they were trained to act the way the less physically dominant partner wanted them to. Exceptions persisted, but since Kurt hadn't been given to him by a parent or other human authority figure Puckzilla clearly had to just work at it until he got it right.

Traditional gifts seemed to include flowers, things that sparkled, and sweet foods.

Lucky for him he had an entire forest full of flowers at his disposal.

.

* * *

.

When Kurt woke up that morning it was to a sweet smell and the sound of a couple of lone bees buzzing back and forth. He stretched, surprised to note that he was alone on the ledge for the first time since being kidnapped, and opened his eyes to see an entire azalea bush six inches from his face.

Surprised, Kurt sat up and examined the bush, which seemed to have been plucked right from the ground and deposited next to him some time before he woke up. Puzzled, he frowned at the bush, trying to figure out why on earth it would be there. Two dazed looking bees buzzing around the top of the bush circled around unhelpfully. He almost thought he'd be less shocked if they were helpful.

Kurt shook his head and edged his way off the ledge. He headed straight for the espresso counter to make himself a coffee with the remaining supplies. He'd have to find some way to get Puckzilla to go and get him milk, and possibly more pastries. The few left in the case were too stale to bother with now.

He contemplated the bush as he waited for the espresso to pour.

It was a puzzling new development and, oddly enough, so was waking up alone. Was this Puckzilla's bizarre way of saying 'sorry I can't be your heater this morning'? Kurt sipped coffee and watched the traumatised bees, slowly coming to a decision about what to do with the plant. It was a relatively small bush, it still had most of its roots, he could move it to the mouth of the cave and plant it there. Hopefully the poor thing wouldn't die.

Sparing a thought for his poor hands that had gone unmoisturised for days now, Kurt finished his coffee and put the cup aside for washing. He rolled up his sleeves, sighed, and gingerly picked up the azalea bush. He hoped the bees wouldn't decide to sting him for moving it. An hour and a lot of dirt later Kurt sat back on his heels to survey his work. He had just used his coffee cup to ferry water to the newly replanted bush, theorising that caffeine couldn't do much more harm to it at this point. His hands were covered in dirt, grit under his fingernails, but he felt a small sense of accomplishment. Now he wasn't the only small, brightly coloured thing living in Puckzilla's cave.

Kurt washed off the dirt in the cave pool, then went outside to sit in the sun and wait for Puckzilla's return.

The lizard-man returned a short time later and actually seemed surprised to see the azalea bush planted outside the cave entrance. He paused, head cocked to the side. Regarded Kurt with an odd look on his face.

Unruffled, Kurt looked up (and up) at Puckzilla, shading his eyes against the morning sun. "I thought I'd start a garden. Since you kindly shoved a bush under my nose while I was sleeping. Also, that bush had bees. I'm not impressed."

Puckzilla huffed and ducked inside the cave.

Kurt just shook his head. If the Puck-creature hadn't wanted him to plant the thing he shouldn't have left the roots on it.

.

* * *

.

It was a regular enough occurrence that the employee training manual actually had a heading for 'Puckzilla Attack'. Being a shop at the base of Mount Fuji was both very profitable and very dangerous, usually in that order. Lucky for them, Puckzilla seemed to avoid rampaging during the tourist season.

Which was why it was very unusual to suddenly hear panicked cries of 'Puckzilla!' at quarter to ten in the morning in the middle of a perfect, cloudless day while tourists milled about waiting for their guided tours to begin. The first step of shop protocol was to double-check that Puckzilla was actually on the way and it wasn't just some asshole shouting his name to scare people. The two girls on counter duty that day had a very quick scuffle over which one of them should stick their head outside to look.

As it turned out it was not just some asshole screaming to scare people.

The feared Puckzilla was indeed in the square and headed straight for the nearest building while people fled in all directions from the coming destruction. Tourists stood in shocked clusters or shrieked as they ran like hell towards the shuttle station and their escape. Puckzilla paid them no mind and instead chose to prise part of the roof from a nearby store.

The giant creature peered into the hole and frowned. One large, terrible hand reached in and picked something up.

Then the creature turned right around and started walking in the opposite direction, away from the square and back up the mountain. Baffled at the lack of widespread destruction, the gift shop girls looked at each other.

"Has that ever happened before?"

"What did he take? Hey!" The girl stuck her head out of the door to yell across the square to the shop with the damaged roof. "What did he take!"

There was a long pause, then finally a middle aged man in a blue apron and hat poked his head out of the window to shout back; "Candy!" He looked just as confused as everyone else.

.

* * *

.

Kurt was washing his clothes in the cave pool when Puckzilla returned, triumphant, from whatever errand he'd been out on. The human barely spared him a glance, simply saying over his shoulder; "You might consider taking me with you at some point. It's getting really boring just sitting here all day until I eventually get rescued. A little variety now and then wouldn't hurt."

He rinsed out his jacket and stood to drape it over a makeshift a-frame that he'd sacrificed two ties, a pair of socks, and a scarf to make using thin branches from the surrounding woodland. It was rustic, sort of lopsided, but it was something he could dry his clothes on without worrying about moss or dirt. That done, Kurt turned around to face the other occupant of the cave, coming up short when he realised that Puckzilla was closer than he'd thought.

Kurt looked up at the lizard-creature, one eyebrow arched.

He was not expecting the sudden rain of small, individually wrapped candies. A small green package hit him on the nose, a few other pattering against his shoulders and the top of his head. The rest scattered around him, rolling in all directions across the cave floor. Puckzilla looked down at him expectantly.

"I have no idea," Kurt told him dryly, plucking an errant candy-piece from his hair (green tea flavoured, apparently), "what you thought that would accomplish."

Puckzilla growled, actually throwing his hands up in frustration, tail whipping about behind him.

"Are you trying to sweeten me up for some horrible and sinister reason?"

Kurt could swear he heard the creature mutter 'fuck my ancestors' before Puckzilla stomped off to sit on a ledge too high up for Kurt to climb onto. He shook his head and carefully opened the individually wrapped piece of candy. _May as well try new things_, he thought to himself dryly. _Yesterday it was azalea plants, today it's green tea candy_. Kurt had no idea what Puckzilla was up to.

.

* * *

.

Puckzilla sat on the highest ledge in the cave, glaring down at the annoyingly, exasperatingly intriguing creature that was Kurt Hummel. Human courtship rituals were clearly nothing more than a big waste of time, not if Kurt didn't even recognise the gestures for what they were. It occurred to Puckzilla that Kurt's culture might be different – in the first couple of days he'd made frequent reference to 'America', which Puckzilla could only assume was the place Kurt came from. It could be that Americans did things differently.

Frustrated, he wished it were as easy to court humans as it was to court members of his own species. If there had actually been any of them still alive, that is.

Puckzilla had one other idea to try. And if that didn't work then dammit, he was going to have to resort to pantomime. Or possibly stealing Kurt's clothes while he was bathing.

It was around when Kurt would have called dinner time when he found himself suddenly hoisted into the air. He was getting used to being picked up and moved about, so he didn't start feeling nervous until he was dropped down onto Puckzilla's shoulder, draped across the warm green skin like a sack of potatoes. Kurt barely had enough time to register that this was the exact same way he'd been carried up the mountain in the first place before Puckzilla was moving.

Kurt stayed where he was and resisted the urge to squirm, afraid of losing his balance until he felt a hand placed across his back to keep him steady. "Ok," Kurt said, watching the ground (and the swaying green tail that curved from Puckzilla's back) as the lizard-man carried him further up the mountain. "I recognise that this is my fault. I said I wanted to come with you and clearly you're taking me somewhere so I can only assume you listened... But, just as a point of interest, where exactly are we going?"

Puckzilla answered him with a few syllables that sounded a lot like "rrrrrffffffgrrraaarrarr", which wasn't a lot of help.

Kurt just sighed and resigned himself to watching Puckzilla's tail for however long it took them to get wherever it was they were going. A few short minutes later they reached something like a plateau literally carved into the side of the mountain. Large, careful hands picked him up again and for a moment or two Kurt found himself too awestruck to even breathe.

For those few moments it felt like flying. The view from the plateau stretched on for miles in almost every direction, past where the green of nature turned into the shining grey of the cityscape and into the bay. They were so high up here and it wasn't even the mountain summit. He'd never really understood what people meant about a view being breathtaking until that moment.

Puckzilla lowered Kurt to the ground and sat down on the ground behind him, looking out at the landscape where the sky was beginning to get dark.

Kurt stood where he was for what felt like a long time, drinking in the details. If he were a better artist he would have wanted to paint that view. Eventually he turned back to look at his silent companion and noticed something about the plateau he'd been too preoccupied to see before.

Behind Puckzilla were massive sentinels carved into the mountain rocks, four of them equally spaced along the breadth of the man-made (creature made? It seemed impossible that people would have come so far off the beaten track) ledge. Slightly larger than life-sized representations of creatures that looked remarkably like the lizard-man sitting before him. Kurt wasn't so dense as to think Puckzilla had been the one to carve them.

"I never asked about your family," Kurt breathed. "I just assumed..."

That Puckzilla was the only one. And he was. It's just that now Kurt was realising that he hadn't always been. Without thinking, Kurt reached out and lay his hand against a green-skinned knee. Of his own accord he climbed onto Puckzilla's leg and sat there on his thigh. _Lonely monster indeed_, he thought.

And then something about the creature's odd behaviour clicked.

"Oh." Kurt blinked. "Oh no." He looked up into Puckzilla's face. "I am not going to sleep with you."

Puckzilla gave him a look, mouth twisting into a smirk.

"I mean sexually," Kurt clarified. Puckzilla's smirk remained and Kurt found himself blushing, his face getting so hot he felt like it could light fires. "Anyway. It's physiologically impossible. There's no possible way it would work."

Kurt didn't like the way his brain automatically tried to prove that statement by running through a variety of increasingly more ridiculous scenarios. It wasn't as if Puckzilla was _that_ big, though clearly big enough that penetration would be totally impossible and _oh my god, brain. Would you please stop with the mental images_? Kurt covered his face with his hands and tried to ignore Puckzilla's smirking face.

It would have been a lot easier to ignore him entirely if he hadn't started petting Kurt's hair.

.

* * *

.

Puckzilla watched Kurt's embarrassed reaction with glee, feeling particularly smug. The small, now-very-pink human had not protested nearly as firmly as if he _really_ didn't want Puckzilla making any sort of advances. Now that Kurt had finally caught on it was clearly an issue of both size and species. There would be limitations, obviously, but Puckzilla was willing to work around them.

Kurt would eventually realise that Puckzilla would make an incredibly awesome partner. Until then...

He'd just have to slowly seduce the human until he came around.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Puckzilla Makes the News  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack. Implied sexual imagery, a tiny bit of swearing.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: There's supposed to be an illustration tho go with this chapter. This being ff. net, I'm afraid I can't actually link to it.

* * *

.

Kurt had expected things to be more awkward than this after discovering that the giant Puck-creature that had kidnapped him was apparently interested in being more than just friends. He'd expected to have to tiptoe around, maybe to have to avoid grabby, amorous advances from the creature. He should have known better. If he'd actually thought about it instead of just quietly panicking he'd have realised he had nothing to worry about (except possibly being watched when he bathed) aside from more slightly left-of-centre gestures of affection. He'd gone to sleep the night after the big revelation alone on the lowest ledge and had woken up alone, but he vaguely recalled waking up to in the middle of the night and feeling a wall of warmth pressed against his back like a blanket. It was sweet, if a little creepy, to think that Puckzilla continued to curl up around him at night even when Kurt indicated that he'd prefer to be alone.

He couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't just because now that Puckzilla had gotten used to sleeping close to someone else that he couldn't go to sleep without Kurt close by.

The thought gave him goose bumps in a way he couldn't tell was good or bad.

Either way, Kurt still woke up alone. The cave was empty, but a couple of small puddles near the cave pool and a trail of drying footprints told him that Puckzilla was probably nearby. Kurt stretched and rolled off the ledge. By now all of his clothes, bar the one fancy suit he refused to take out of his suitcase, were stained various shades of green from the moss. He'd given up trying to scrub them out and resigned himself to wearing green for however long it took to get his hands on some new clothes.

He padded across the cave to the pool, a silent green shadow, knelt near the edge briefly to cup his hands together for a few mouthfuls of water. He'd stopped questioning why the water was always clean no matter what (or who) was put into it.

The next stop was the espresso counter, which had been cleaned of stale pastries a couple of days before and now gleamed in the dim light. Kurt examined the contents of the coffee grinder, then looked into the battered cupboards to see how many bags of beans were left. The answer, a depressing 'none', made him sigh. He tapped out a stingy amount of the ground coffee and made himself a slightly weaker than usual espresso. He had another two shots worth, and then it was hello caffeine withdrawals. Again.

Coffee cup in hand, Kurt made his way out to the cave mouth and the morning sunlight. He stood by his azalea bush (which was settling in quite nicely) for two whole minutes before he noticed the other leafy addition standing impudently beside it, neatly and very recently planted into the soil.

"What on earth...?"

He frowned at the new addition until his brain caught up with his body in awakeness. It was a pear tree, planted where it would get the best morning sun, the soil around it marked with large fingerprints that made it look suspiciously like Puckzilla had pressed the dirt in while it was still wet.

"Grraah?"

Kurt jumped, looking up to where Puckzilla was leaning against the outside of the cave mouth. "What?"

The creature gestured to the plant, head cocked to the side.

Kurt looked back at the pear tree, then at Puckzilla again. "It's... Did you plant that this morning? It's a nice gesture but..." Kurt hesitated. Actually, it was just plain nice. It was obviously intended to flesh out Kurt's 'garden', and it was a tree large enough that it had a few small pears on it already just waiting to ripen. "But it makes the rest of this place look like a dump," he said snippily, to cover up his falter. "You should really get rid of that half a prius. And those dry branches should be stacked properly for firewood."

Puckzilla rolled his eyes. The creature leaned over and picked up the car, then tossed it out into the forest where it landed with a crash. He raised an eyebrow at Kurt as if asking if he were happy now.

"Thankyou," Kurt said primly.

Puckzilla shook his head, then started to gather up the bits and pieces of dry wood. The branches looked like sticks in his hand. Kurt suddenly felt unreasonable and mean.

"No, I'm sorry." He shook his head, walking across the rough pebbled ground until he could put a hand on Puckzilla's leg. "You don't have to do that. I'm just unfairly crabby this morning and I'll probably be taking it out on everything that's close enough to yell at."

Puckzilla made a questioning noise, one that Kurt thought he recognised as a 'why'.

"I'm down to the last of my coffee supplies," Kurt sighed into his cup. "It won't be pretty when I run out."

"Hrf." It sounded a lot like a dry laugh, the creature probably recalling Kurt's temporary brush with caffeine withdrawal when he was first brought up to the mountain cave. Kurt felt a touch to the top of his head and looked up in time to see Puckzilla's fingers reach down to stroke him again. The lizard man then stepped away and turned, his tail whooshing just a foot over the top of Kurt's head.

As he watched Puckzilla walk off down the path he'd carved through the trees Kurt couldn't help but hope that he'd return with more coffee.

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* * *

.

The espresso cart was a fairly recent addition, a smaller, less expensive replacement for the shop that had been ripped apart the week before. It was owned by the same family, a last ditch effort to try and recoup some of their losses. Insurance had covered repairs to the building itself, but quick calculations had revealed that it would be impossible to continue paying rent for the shop as well as replacing everything not directly (or only partially) covered by insurance.

It was a gamble before bankruptcy in the hopes of earning enough of a profit to keep the family business afloat.

One of the plusses was that it only took one person to man the cart during the hours between the morning rush and lunchtime. Paying only one wage helped keep costs down, and meant that Miyuki could sit there behind the counter reading without worrying about her mother suddenly appearing to ask her why she wasn't cleaning.

All she had to do was make sure she put down her book whenever a customer approached, greeting them with the appropriate amount of customer service. Although, admittedly, she would occasionally get so lost in her book that she didn't notice the customer until they were standing right in front of her.

Shocked by a flash of green in her peripheral vision, Miyuki snapped to attention, a slightly panicked "hello, how can I help you?" jumping out of her mouth before she realised exactly what she was looking at. And when she did realise all she could think to do was scream, ducking down behind the counter as if the flimsy cart would give her any protection at all. _Not again_, she thought in a panic, _not again_!

A massive, clawed hand reached in after her and she screamed some more, squeezing her eyes shut and bracing herself for the inevitable pain.

The pain never came. Instead she heard a couple of thumps close to her head and cracked open an eye to see the Puckzilla's giant green hand delicately scooping up several bags of unground coffee beans. Miyuki opened her other eye, jaw dropping open a little as she dared to look up at the giant green creature as it left, the cart around her still in one piece.

She watched the creature walk off down the street, calmly, casually, as if it were just another person running errands in the little shopping district. She saw him stop by a bakery and rip the awning from the front, then reach in and pluck a couple of fresh loaves from the shelves, leaving everything else completely intact. With shaking hands she reached into her apron pocket for her mobile phone.

"You are not going to _believe_," she said when her mother picked up the house phone, "what just happened!"

.

* * *

.

There was actually a lot to do around the cave now that Kurt was used to it enough to recognise what needed to be done. There was the usual washing yesterday's clothes, straightening up a little, bathing in the cave pool, and using the water to wash out and refill the espresso machine. Now added to that was ferrying water to the plants outside in the morning, stacking and chopping firewood (he had no idea how old exactly an axe had to be to look like flint), and experimenting with the various foods Puckzilla kept bringing back. Usually berries, fruit, and neatly skinned legs from farm animals, with the occasional vegetable thrown in just for the hell of it.

With all of that and a break to sigh and sit and think, Kurt was well equipped to keep himself occupied until Puckzilla returned just after midday.

Kurt was sitting by the cave pool, his toes just barely in the water, when Puckzilla ducked in through the cave entrance. Kurt turned to look, unable to identify what exactly Puckzilla was carrying until the creature set it down on the ground and it unfolded into what looked like the awning from a shop with bits and pieces piled into the middle. Just from a first glance Kurt could see several bags of espresso beans at the bottom of the jumble. Curious, mostly just grateful, Kurt got up to see what else Puckzilla had brought back.

The awning crinkled and made tiny crackling noises under his bare feet. Kurt knelt down beside the pile and sorted it into smaller piles, each one to be taken to a different place. Coffee beans would go to the espresso counter. The mysteriously unsquashed cob loaf, grapes and cheese would go to the cool hollow Kurt had discovered a few days before. And whatever was in that basket... Would apparently be snatched up by Puckzilla and placed on top of a ledge too high for Kurt to get to.

Kurt arched an eyebrow at him but said nothing, instead getting up to put the new bits and pieces where they belonged. Afterwards he rolled up the awning and dragged it outside. No doubt there would eventually be some use for it. Maybe he could cut it up and sew it into a fashionable raincoat.

If he actually had the tools to do that.

Kurt spent the afternoon fussing about, amusing himself outside by creating patterns with the various coloured quartz pebbles. He did stretches to keep himself in shape, something that Puckzilla watched with great fascination (probably thinking perverted thoughts). He wound up watching the sky change colours at sunset, thinking about dress cuts and the sound of heels on runways.

A gentle tap to his shoulder and Kurt looked up to see Puckzilla behind him, a look on his face that Kurt suspected meant that if he didn't get up on his own then the creature would have no issues just picking him up.

Kurt sighed and stood, dusting the back of his pants off. He followed Puckzilla back into the cave to the flat space by the cave pool. The basket from before sat innocently in the middle of that clear space, and Kurt suddenly suspected that he was being romanced. His suspicion was only confirmed when he opened the basket to see a neatly wrapped selection of cold cuts and finger foods that Puckzilla _had_ to have stolen from somewhere.

Kurt looked up at the Puck-creature suspiciously, but Puckzilla only sat down with his back against the wall and looked at Kurt expectantly.

With a deep sigh, Kurt realised he might as well accept the offer. It was either that or bread and cheese for dinner, and he really couldn't be bothered with the effort. (If he thought the excuse sounded weak in his head he pushed the idea away and refused to acknowledge it to himself.) He sat down and pulled the basket onto his lap for a better look, wondering if Puckzilla was just going to watch him eat.

"What do you eat?" He found himself asking, looking up at the lizard-man. "I've never seen you eat once since you brought me here. You have to eat something, and if I had to take a guess I'd say it was definitely animal."

Puckzilla grinned at him a moment. Then the smile dropped. He shook his head, oddly serious, and murmured something that sounded almost like English.

Kurt thought he caught the word 'goat', but couldn't be sure. He got the gist of it though. Puckzilla ate when he was out, so he didn't disturb Kurt with the blood and crunching.

Somehow, though he wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, Kurt eventually found himself sitting on Puckzilla's lap, his back pressed against the creature's stomach. Puckzilla was purring, the sound rumbling through Kurt's chest in an oddly pleasant way. He was full, content, and absolutely determined that it didn't mean anything at all.

"This doesn't mean anything, you know," he said aloud. "You just happen to be warm and comfortable to sit on. That's all."

He had to make these things clear, just so Puckzilla didn't get the wrong impression.

.

* * *

.

**Today's number one news headlines in Tokyo**:

Anger Management for Puckzilla,  
Has the foreigner employed by the Department of Mythological and Medical Studies managed to tame Puckzilla's rage?

Monster Caffeine Addiction  
Experts now speculate Puckzilla may suffer from caffeine withdrawals.  
Fishing Boat Eaten By Lobster  
Commercial fishermen advised to carry large amounts of bread.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Not Wearing Pants. Again.  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack. Implied sexual imagery, and non-graphic nudity.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: This chapter is your last chance to stop reading before there's actual reciprocated Purtzilla romance. Don't say I didn't warn you. Also, illustration available upon request if you PM me with your email.

* * *

.

Kurt was starting to question his sexuality, and not in an 'I might be metrosexual!' kind of way.

If only it were that easy.

.

* * *

.

If he was being entirely honest with himself he might hesitantly admit that the crisis had started a while ago, but honesty wasn't something he was wholly comfortable with. He preferred to think that this crisis had started yesterday. That way he didn't have to admit to the fact that it _wasn't_ so sudden, that this had been coming whether he wanted it or not, that he _had_ been thinking about it before this morning.

This uncomfortable, shocking, naked morning.

To clarify, Kurt wasn't naked. He was used to himself naked and found nothing shocking or disturbing about the thoughts he had while he was naked. Heck, he'd been naked in the mountain cave before and it hadn't bothered him (he'd been naked in the mountain cave with Puckzilla watching him, in fact). The troubling thing this morning, and also part of yesterday evening, was the fact that Puckzilla was naked.

Completely, inescapably nude. And currently lounging on the same ledge along the wall that Kurt slept on. In a pose that, if Kurt were to turn around right now, would mean that his junk was pretty much at eye level.

Kurt was not going to turn around. He was going to continue what he was doing, casually slicing bread and cheese to make a sandwich. And not thinking about Puckzilla naked. Not even a little bit.

See, the trouble was that he'd only actually _seen_ Puckzilla naked once before. That, by the way, had been a total accident. If he'd actually known that Puckzilla was also naked that day in the cave pool then he wouldn't have let the creature pull him so close. He certainly wouldn't have looked up as Puckzilla was getting out of the pool with timing just perfect enough that Kurt got a full-frontal view of his... bits.

_Normally_ Puckzilla was adequately covered, wearing something much like a primitive leather loincloth or kilt. True, the single article of clothing left pretty much everything else exposed, but it left enough to the imagination that Kurt didn't need to constantly avert his eyes to avoid seeing a giant penis every hour of the day. And then last night, for some reason completely beyond Kurt's understanding, the lizard-man had dropped trou and proceeded to walk around the cave completely and utterly naked.

Kurt had responded by announcing that he was going to sleep and Puckzilla was not under any circumstances to follow him. He'd woken up with Puckzilla curled around him anyway, and had been uncomfortably aware of the creature's continuing nudity. Even now, an hour later, he couldn't get the image out of his mind.

Puckzilla, reclining on the rocky ledge in a pose reminiscent of a good, old fashioned pinup. Naked.

And oh god did he have an impressive body.

Kurt had known this before, in the sense that he knew that Puckzilla was trim, fit, and covered in the kind of muscles that would have had him salivating if only the creature were human. His crisis – the real crisis – was that now he couldn't stop thinking about it. In a... Ok. It's ok. He can totally acknowledge this without freaking out. In a slightly... sexual way. And let's get one thing very clear. Before Japan, before being kidnapped by a giant green lizard-man, Kurt Hummel had been a very average, very vanilla person when it came to his sexuality. In fact, until very recently the most adventurous sexual thought he'd ever had was contemplating whether or not to let his then-boyfriend blindfold him.

It was a really big leap to go from umming and ahhing over being blindfolded to (involuntarily) contemplating all of the sex-acts that could possibly be achieved between himself and a creature more than twice his size. To thinking about how soft Puckzilla's lips might be, how it might feel to be touched by those huge hands, pressed against all of that naked skin...

Kurt blushed.

He refused to turn around.

He was too busy having a sexual identity crisis.

.

* * *

.

Kurt Hummel was seventeen when he acquired his first boyfriend. He uses the word 'acquired' when he tells the story because it's as detached and dull as the relationship had been. There was the thrill of firsts; First kiss, first real date, first fumbling sexual advances... But the excitement had faded pretty quickly and eventually it turned out that they made better friends than boyfriends. Whatever spark was supposed to be there had been suspiciously absent. Love _can_ grow from friendship, he wasn't denying that, he was just saying that in this case it obviously hadn't.

His next boyfriend, in college, had been a douche. Kurt was still a little pissed that he was the last one to notice that.

The attraction had been instant, and mutual. On top of that Adam had been a TA, which had instantly raised Kurt's X factor amongst his fellow students. They'd been dating for six months – sleeping together for most of that time – when Kurt finally found out that Adam's '_cousin_' was actually his girlfriend and that he thought being bisexual meant he was entitled to '_have one of each_'. Needless to say he'd dropped the man like a hot brick. Then proceeded to realise that in the entire time they'd been dating the only things Adam had given him were cheap flowers, a tacky souvenir keychain, and a really bad cold. Kurt had firmly resolved not to be blinded by a hot body ever again...

Which was when he'd met Mitchel in his third year. Kurt's last few dates had been complete failures and there was an awkward one night stand that he liked to pretend never happened, but Mitchel was different.

They'd met in the campus library, forced to share a table when all of the study booths and individual desks were taken. Mitchel was a little shy, and a little nerdy, but he had beautiful eyes and a nice smile. Kurt had said yes to a date with him purely because he felt sorry for the other man. The resulting 'brief' meeting for coffee had turned into a discussion of shared interests that went on so long they were eventually kicked out and ended up in the park feeding ducks. Mitchel wasn't the kind of guy that Kurt usually went for but he decided to try the theory of personality over looks and was quite happy with the result. The only trouble was they never managed to blend social groups. Mitchel was a library-and-home kind of guy, while Kurt was a social butterfly. The difference sparked arguments, which eventually led to sniping, cheating (another thing Kurt wasn't proud of), and a breakup over facebook.

He wasn't even going to think about that one football player he once dated.

Kurt pursed his lips and found himself muttering to his pear tree; "Puckzilla doesn't even speak the same language and I communicate better with him than I have any other interested male."

The pear tree didn't respond.

Kurt realised he was so far gone he was actually speaking to a pear tree and sighed at himself in disgust. He looked at the little garden that had started to pop up outside Puckzilla's cave, which now included two potted miniature roses, and couldn't help thinking that the Puck-creature actually put some thought into his gifts. True, they were still a little off the mark, but they came from vastly different cultures. It was probably a miracle he hadn't tried to romance Kurt with slaughtered goats.

Already, in the space of just a few weeks, Puckzilla had given him flowers (and plenty of them), candy, an entire coffee counter, and other (more practical) bits and pieces. He'd taken Kurt on what sort of amounted to picnics, and to the most brilliant (obviously personal) lookout point Kurt had ever seen. He leered, but didn't actually attempt any obvious sexual advances. And – a major point in his favour – he was large and intimidating enough that he could easily ignore anything Kurt did or didn't want, but didn't.

"Please," Kurt said to the rose plant he was watering, "tell me I'm not seriously thinking about this? That I've gone insane, or I'm hallucinating and I'm actually in a hospital back in Tokyo suffering from some sort of terrible food poisoning. And on my god I'm talking to a rosebush."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose. His hands were starting to get rough, developing calluses for the first time since he realised what moisturiser could do for his skin. If he asked, Puckzilla would probably bring him back a lifetime supply of Oro Gold.

He was not considering telling Puckzilla to go get him expensive moisturiser.

Ok. Fine. Maybe he was.

"You're a rosebush," Kurt told the plant, as if it were the potted rose and not his own thoughts telling him he was being ridiculous. "You have no right to judge me."

He hurried inside before he started talking to any other inanimate objects.

.

* * *

.

If Kurt had actually believed in God and didn't just use the word as a socially acceptable exclamation point, he would have thanked God that when Puckzilla returned to the cave that afternoon the creature was again wearing his usual covering.

"Please tell me," Kurt said dryly, "that incidents like this morning won't become a regular occurrence. I'd prefer to start the day without being blinded by your masculinity."

Puckzilla rolled his eyes and grunted a 'whatever' in Kurt's direction.

"Puckzilla..." Kurt hesitated, feeling insecure and a little bit mean. He squared his shoulders and stuck his nose in the air. "My hands are getting ridiculously chapped and dry. I need you to bring me back some moisturiser. Some good quality moisturiser, none of that cheap, oily slop sold by department stores." A beat. "And some strawberries."

The creature looked at him for a few seconds, as if gauging how serious he was. Eventually Puckzilla sighed, grumbling under his breath as he trudged out of the cave again.

Kurt sighed to himself. He felt like a teenager who'd just demanded flowers before he'd even think about a date. He justified it by telling himself that he wanted to see how genuine Puckzilla was, whether he'd jump through hoops and walk over broken glass to make Kurt happy. He couldn't find a way to justify how awful he felt for thinking that. He'd never thought of himself as the kind of person who'd take advantage of someone's feelings.

It was a point in Puckzilla's favour that he was so much easier to boss around than Kurt's previous boyfriends.

He had not just thought the words 'Puckzilla' and 'boyfriend' in the same sentence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Officially My... Boyfriend?  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack. Implied sexual imagery.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: Purtzilla romance from here on in.

* * *

.

Sleep deprived and beginning to get very frustrated, Kurt woke up for the fourth time that night only to groan when he realised it was still dark. The only light in the cave came from the half-moon, shining through over the black hole of the cave pool. If he turned enough to look at the fire pit he could just make out the glow of the coals, which meant it couldn't have been that long since the last time he'd woken up.

Sleep was a cruel, cold-hearted bitch. He didn't even feel any less tired than when he'd first settled on the mossy ledge, just annoyed. There was no physical reason for him to keep waking up.

It wasn't too hot, or too light. It wasn't cold, the chill kept away by the warmth behind him. Nothing was poking him or making noise. Puckzilla was sleeping soundly on the ledge behind him, lying on his side in a half-curl, close enough to Kurt that his body heat was like a blanket.

Recently Kurt had started worrying that he'd get too used to sleeping like this – on a mossy rock with Puckzilla behind him – and would find himself unable to sleep in real beds. Tonight he was having the opposite problem and it was starting to really piss him off.

He rolled over for what felt like the thousandth time and found himself facing Puckzilla's chest. He watched in the faint light as the creature breathed, listening to the faint rumble of sound that was more like purring than snoring. It was strangely soothing.

It made Kurt irrationally angry that he'd find Puckzilla's presence at all soothing.

This creature was dangerous, inhuman, could crush him to death if it rolled over in the wrong direction, and Kurt would rather sleep _here_ than in a bed? What in the hell was wrong with him?

Looking at Puckzilla now, Kurt remembered suddenly that he hadn't thought about being rescued in over a week. His phone was stone cold dead, so useless he'd actually forgotten where he'd left the stupid thing last. He got no news from the outside world. Essentially cut off from the rest of everything and everyone, and yet so far his only complaints had been the lack of coffee (solved now) and the damage to his clothing and skin. Forty pounds – enough for a literal vat – of Avenue recently gifted to him by an exasperated Puckzilla meant he wouldn't need to worry about his skin for a long time.

The only issue remaining was clothing, something solved as easily as a sewing kit and some decent fabric.

He wasn't lonely. He wasn't bored.

He was a little horrified that he didn't miss his friends and family as much as he should have. Kurt had Puckzilla for company.

It occurred to him just exactly what in the hell was wrong with him.

"I'm a complete nut job," Kurt whispered aloud, aware that he was reaching the terrifying climax of his earlier crisis. "I'm officially insane. I've lost it. My mind is fundamentally... ridiculous."

He tilted his head back, looking up to see the way Puckzilla's arms were resting by his head. The curl, the angle of his chest, left a tiny gap just large enough for Kurt to wriggle through. 'This doesn't mean," he added, starting to inch his way slowly under Puckzilla's arm, "that I've in any way fallen for your charms. This is only because I'm clearly deranged."

Puckzilla didn't answer past a faint murmur, still sound asleep.

Kurt wormed his way up until he was level with Puckzilla's face, careful not to wake the creature. Somehow – and don't ask for his logic on this because not even he's sure - it felt less stupid doing this while Puckzilla was asleep.

Even with the faint light from the moon it was almost impossible to make out the details of Puckzilla's face. Kurt could see the shapes of his nose and lips, the shadows of his eye sockets, and could recall from memory what the creature's face looked like in the light. Proportionately perfect, handsome, if it hadn't been for the size difference and the green skin he might have been looking at a model. He was... Well, Kurt had to admit that there were plenty of worse things a person could be attracted to.

At least Kurt had picked something that was vaguely human.

At least Puckzilla wasn't a jellyfish.

Kurt suppressed a slightly hysterical giggle. He had no idea what he was doing, if this was actually what he wanted or if he'd just been alone with the creature long enough that he'd been brainwashed into _thinking_ it was what he wanted. He could feel the weight of Puckzilla's arm draped over him, crushing him without actually crushing him. Heavy, reassuring, hot against the cold chill of the night air. He could feel Puckzilla's breath on his face as he drew closer and raised a hand to touch the creature's jaw line.

The touch helped orient him, so when he leaned in he knew which direction he should be coming from. Kurt hesitated at the last second, giving himself a final chance to back off and forget this incredibly stupid, insane thing he was about to do. But seconds passed and he couldn't make himself pull away.

So he pushed forwards instead, gently touching his mouth to Puckzilla's. The difference in size was noticeable, not completely impossible. Kurt had almost expected Puckzilla's lips to be rough, or scaly, not soft and plush.

He didn't know if he'd secretly expected it to feel bad, but when he pressed a firmer kiss to the creature's mouth a knot of tension unwound in his body.

Kurt sighed softly. He pulled away just enough that he could stretch out again, his head resting against Puckzilla's collarbone. He spared a brief thought for the possibility of being crushed while unconscious, a thought that didn't stop him from actually falling asleep just a few seconds later.

.

* * *

.

Kurt was not in fact crushed in his sleep.

He woke up feeling warm and well rested to the sound of a deep purr rumbling close by. Sometime while he was sleeping Puckzilla must have moved, because he was now on his back with Kurt sprawled over his chest, head tucked up underneath Puckzilla's chin. It took Kurt a little while to wake up enough to realise that the pleasant, massaging sensation against his back was being caused by one of Puckzilla's hands stroking him.

"Good morning," Kurt murmured, stretching as best he could without losing his balance. He sat up, as carefully as possible, and looked down at Puckzilla.

"Grrrmmmm," the creature replied, smiling at him.

For some reason, Kurt blushed. He had the feeling that something very significant had changed in their relationship. Kurt had kissed Puckzilla last night, and even though the creature had been asleep at the time he still seemed to know it had happened. (Or, he reasoned, Puckzilla had woken up with Kurt tucked under his arm and was clearly smart enough to figure out that it meant something.)

"I should get up," Kurt said, cheeks still flushed pink with embarrassment. "And make myself a coffee..."

He looked around, trying to figure out the best way to get down from where he was sitting on Puckzilla's chest. Very carefully Kurt started moving sideways, stretching a leg down to try and feel for the ledge. Being not quite awake he realised his mistake only after he'd almost stretched himself into a vertical split.

Lucky for him one of Puckzilla's large hands caught him before it got any more ridiculous, lifting him back into a less painful position. Kurt found himself being cradled against Puckzilla's chest as the creature sat up. He sighed, curling into the warmth that surrounded him on pretty much all sides.

"So I suppose we're going to have to talk."

Puckzilla grunted an affirmative. The lizard-man stood, crossed the cave, and gently deposited Kurt next to the espresso counter.

Kurt had to laugh. Clearly Puckzilla knew how he functioned in the mornings. Kurt ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the creature. "After coffee," he agreed.

Kurt made it a triple-shot, hoping to kick start his brain a little faster than usual. He was getting used to having his coffee black, since there was nowhere to keep milk in Puckzilla's cave. It wasn't so bad, he mused to himself, sipping his coffee. At least he still had a ton of sugar-packets that had come with the counter. He wasn't going to be running out of those any time soon.

Eventually Kurt made his way to the mouth of the cave to sit on a rock near his little garden. He heard Puckzilla sit down nearby and could just see parts of the lizard-man in his peripheral vision.

"It's becoming clear," Kurt started, then hesitated. He gripped his coffee cup with both hands and took another sip before he started again. "I never thought I would actually enjoy living in a cave in the middle of nowhere. There's no phone line, no internet, no way to connect with the outside world – no electricity and yet somehow the espresso machine still runs – yet I'm not all that bothered by it. I'd like to be able to go into town now and then, maybe to start designing again. If I had some connection with the outside world I think I could be very happy here. And that's really... startling. For me."

Puckzilla touched Kurt's shoulder, fingers curling lightly over his arm.

"I miss my family," Kurt continued, "and my friends, but not as much as I thought I would. I'd like to be able to let them know that I'm fine. I can only imagine what's been said in the papers back home. For all I know they might think I'm dead." He took a deep breath, reached up to touch the large hand on his shoulder. "If I'm going to do this, if I'm going to stay here with you and _be_ with you then I can't just stay here in the cave all day. I don't know what your culture was like, but Kurt Hummel is _not_ a housewife."

He was going to assume that Puckzilla's chuckle was agreement.

"And as for sex..." Kurt's mind flashed back to all of those inappropriate mental images he'd ever had about a naked Puckzilla. "Well," he muttered, "it's going to be interesting."

Kurt saw Puckzilla stand up from the corner of his eye and tilted his head back to look at him. The creature bent down and reached for him, hands stopping just shy of touching him. Puckzilla cocked his head to the side, clearly asking for permission.

Kurt gave it just a moment's thought. Then he stood and put his mostly-finished coffee down on the rock. He let himself be picked up, expecting that it would somehow end up in a potentially very awkward kiss. It didn't. Instead Kurt sat in the cradle of Puckzilla's arm as the creature started to walk away from the cave.

A little confused, but having learned to trust (his) Puckzilla, Kurt let himself be carried without protest. He settled into the feeling, basking in the thin morning sunlight and watching the scenery as it slowly passed by. They passed the path that Kurt was familiar with, veering left and to a place Kurt had never been before. The forest was denser than he was used to, thick and dark and filled with the smell of damp earth.

Eventually the trees thinned out, the landscape turning to rock, and Puckzilla stopped at the mouth of a dip like a valley.

Bones, bleached white by the sun, stacked in piles like bits of driftwood, littered the ground. Huge skulls, humanlike except for the ridge of bony spikes, sat at the top of each mound. It was eerie. Cold and lonely in the sunlight.

At first Kurt wasn't sure what he was looking at. It didn't really click that he was seeing a graveyard until he noticed the etchings carved carefully into the skull on top of the closest set of bones. Japanese characters carefully chiselled just above the brow ridge in two sets, one above the other. Like a headstone. Name and date, he realised.

"Your family?" Kurt asked softly.

Puckzilla's response was a soft, solemn rumble.

He would have carved those last characters himself.

Careful not to lose his balance, but confident that Puckzilla would catch him if he happened to slip, Kurt shifted, lifting himself up onto his knees until he was level with Puckzilla's face. This was a defining moment, and Kurt was determined that it wouldn't go wrong. He leaned in, closing his eyes at the last second, and kissed Puckzilla's left cheekbone. "You're not alone," he told the lizard-creature. "You have me now."

Puckzilla responded with a rumble that sounded like Kurt's name, turning his face just enough that he could bump his nose against Kurt's cheek. Like a nuzzle. Something not quite a kiss, or at least that's the impression it gave.

Helped along by Puckzilla's careful hands Kurt sat himself down on the creature's shoulder, one arm around the back of Puckzilla's neck to steady himself. It was a more precarious pose than the fireman-carry Kurt had gotten used to but he didn't feel any less safe. It let him see the world from the same angle that Puckzilla did, surrounded by green.

And too caught up in watching the canopy to notice the group of slightly-lost hikers staring open-mouthed as Puckzilla crossed the mountain path, Kurt perched comfortably on his shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: Puckzilla Is Physically Proportionate  
**Rating**: PG-13, pushing to M  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla.  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: Total crack. Semi-graphic mentions of sexual activity.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: Purtzilla sort-of-sex? Also, this chapter is not in exact chronological order. And Puckzilla pins are now available, PM for link.

* * *

.

_When Kurt had mentioned that the sex was going to be interesting he hadn't exactly thought he was going to mean this interesting._

.

* * *

.

"Don't talk to me," Kurt stated, facing away from the apologetic creature that had just slipped into the cave pool behind him. His hair was wet, he was completely naked, and frankly just grateful that the pool had the baffling power to remain unspoiled no matter what happened to be dunked into the water. He could still taste bitterness on his tongue and his eyes had yet to stop stinging. It was sort of colouring his mood right now.

He'd probably laugh about it later, when he'd had time to cool down. But for now? Kurt wasn't exactly in the most understanding of moods.

There was no water displaced by Puckzilla's entry, but Kurt could feel the water ripple with the lizard-man's movement. A moment or two later large, recently manicured hands stroked lightly against his back and sides.

Puckzilla cooed at him.

"I am embarrassed and annoyed and trying to sulk," Kurt said over his shoulder. "You're not being very accommodating."

Puckzilla's soft purr was soothing. He rumbled something or other that Kurt interpreted as an apology – it had that tone to it, sympathy mixed with a promise of 'I'll make it up to you'. Kurt was just a little annoyed at how suddenly difficult it was to stay mad at Puckzilla, especially considering the nature of the incident. Puckzilla pulled the human back towards him until Kurt was pressed against his chest.

Defeated, Kurt pouted for a moment or two. Then he sighed. "Well," he said dryly, "I did say it would be a learning experience."

And at least next time he'd know better.

.

* * *

.

_It spurts in his face and he gasps, which is exactly the wrong thing to do. Now he's coughing, and his eyes are streaming tears, and this wasn't really the end to the evening that he'd been picturing._

.

* * *

.

Exactly twenty four hours ago Kurt had been sitting by the fire pit, scrambling eggs on a thing, flat rock by the flames. A baked apple was cooling a little beside him on a slightly chipped plate, the bare bones of a garden salad bravely waiting beside it. Kurt's dinners were odd and eclectic. Puckzilla, of course, had already eaten and was seated nearby watching Kurt work.

He would have been helping, except for the one time he had actually tried Kurt had wound up getting exasperated with his hovering and had sent him outside. ('_If you don't get out of my hair right now so help me I will be forced to shove rocks in your nostrils while you're sleeping_!')

Puckzilla was musing on how bossy such a small creature could be when said creature suddenly turned away from his cooking to announce; "You need to take me to the city."

"Grah?" Puckzilla cocked his head to the side, giving Kurt a slightly incredulous look. What, _now_? He'd just gotten settled in for the night! And anyway, it'd only end in people running and screaming and Kurt probably getting pissed off about it.

"Not _now_," Kurt clarified (sometimes Puckzilla wondered if the little pink creature wasn't psychic). "Tomorrow, when all of the stores are open."

"Rrar?" _Why_? What did stores being open have to do with anything when Puckzilla could just poke a hole in the windows and open them himself? He didn't really see the need for politeness. After all, humans had never been particularly polite to him. (Until Kurt.)

"Well I know you're used to being a bachelor," Kurt stared, carefully poking his scrambled eggs onto the plate with the apple and salad, "and I'm sure the cave is just fine for your singular needs. But I'm neither a giant lizard –"

"Zirraarh," Puckzilla corrected, his tongue feeling clumsy around the human-sounding word.

"Zirra?" Kurt paused a moment, contemplating the word, then was clearly struck by understanding. "Oh. Zilla. Well I'm not a zilla, and I'm not a naturalist, which means I need more than a few rocks and an espresso machine if I'm going to live here permanently."

Ok, here we go. He should have expected this. It would've been the same with a mate from his species. It would be all 'this rock looks better over there' and 'are you seriously telling me you only have _one_ type of moss' and 'we need glow worms' or something equally as pointless. Still, Puckzilla mused, tail twitching thoughtfully, Kurt came from a very different culture... Puckzilla couldn't expect him to just adapt to everything. Compromise was the mother of relationships, after all.

(Actually, in his culture sex and yelling matches were the mother of relationships. Back in the days when the mountain growled like thunder even on the most cloudless of days.)

"For starters," Kurt said, scooting back until he was leaning against Puckzilla's legs, "I'm going to need some sewing materials, a machine, cloth, perhaps some drawing pads and pens too. A refrigerator would be wonderful too. A microwave... Some kind of generator that runs on sunbeams, rainbows, and the innocent dreams of small children. I'm beginning to suspect the espresso machine runs on the force of my own willpower."

"Grrrrmmmmff."

"So I need you to take me into the city so I can go shopping," Kurt finished, and delicately popped a piece of apple into his mouth.

Puckzilla had a feeling that Kurt would also need him to carry everything back for him. He sighed. "Graah." _Sure, whatever_.

"Excellent. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

Puckzilla leaned back against the cave wall, relaxing in the peaceful quiet as he watched Kurt eat. It was a while before something seemed to spark Kurt's memory, and the human looked up at him with a puzzled expression on his face. "If 'zilla' is the name of your species does that mean your name is actually just Puck?"

Puckzilla shrugged. He didn't have the verbal capacity (yet. It would require a lot of practice) to explain the hyphenation and eventual amalgamation of the two name-parts. He had at one point just been 'Puck' – at least to family – but humans had been calling him Puckzilla for as long as he could remember.

"Would you prefer it if I started calling you Puck?"

"Puckzirrah." It didn't make a whole lot of sense to change it now. He gently stroked Kurt's hair, smiling. He liked the way _this_ small, pink creature said his name. The lack of screaming and running was one of Kurt's more attractive qualities.

.

* * *

.

Kurt dressed in his one and only perfectly pressed, still completely unstained suit. He made Puckzilla bathe in the cave pool and stand outside in the sunlight until he was dry before he even let the creature touch him. Just on the off chance that Puckzilla's green skin was hiding traces of moss that would ruin his suit jacket or pants. His dress shoes didn't quite match the colour of the suit, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

"Alright," Kurt said, looking up at his giant, green boyfriend. "Take me to Tokyo."

Grumbling softly under his breath, Puckzilla picked the human up and sat him on his shoulder. Perched there as comfortably as the position allowed Kurt smiled to himself in the morning sunlight, relaxing while the lizard-creature walked down the mountain to take him into the city for the first time in weeks.

.

* * *

.

_It's bizarre, but this is probably the most turned on Kurt has ever been. He looks up at Puckzilla's face, the way the creature is biting his bottom lip, and thinks that his current state of arousal is more than justified. Cartoon size kink porn has nothing on reality._

.

* * *

.

The usual running and screaming occurred. The residents at the base of Mt. Fuji had become used to Puckzilla coming and going without much destruction, but the citizens of Tokyo proper had yet to be exposed to the lizard-man's new habits. As Puckzilla approached the outskirts, Kurt perched primly on his shoulder like a very well-dressed canary, all it took was one person to point and scream "Puckzilla!" and suddenly the whole area was plunged into chaos.

Puckzilla just sighed and picked his way through the people running willy-nilly underfoot.

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Well," he said, "this is one way to make an entrance. I suppose you get this all the time. A horde of screaming fans," Kurt paused a beak, and Puckzilla could hear the smirk in his voice, "only backwards."

Backwards screaming fans would be a picnic compared to the traffic jams and frantic pointing. Puckzilla stepped over a bus full of tourists, reminding himself that Kurt probably wouldn't be too impressed if he started poking holes in buildings or crushing cars underfoot. No matter how much the high-pitched sounds hurt his ears.

"Should I be offended that nobody has noticed me?" Kurt asked into his ear. "I'm being ignored for my celebrity boyfriend. Alas. You can put me down when we get to the shopping district. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Puckzilla set Kurt down on the sidewalk and stood off to the side by a street light, watching Kurt cut through the panicky crowd to disappear into a nearby store. His tail curled behind him, switching through the air and nearly bowling over a cluster of shocked-looking businessmen. This, Puckzilla knew, was going to be a long afternoon.

.

* * *

.

_Frankly Kurt only has a rough idea of what exactly he's doing here. Mental images aside, Puckzilla is freakin' huge. (Proportionate, Kurt thinks dryly.) And Kurt's mouth is, by comparison, so very small..._

.

* * *

.

**News article translated (Japanese to English) via babelfish**.

Full of Care Puckzilla  
American Kurt Hummel Has Tame Monster Mt. Fuji?

Early today resident and shops at Tokyo [#######] district shocked and frightened when monster Puckzilla stomped in street, shop owners fear another big destruction [#####]. Surprising, spectators monster did not step and wandering slowly downtown area. Kurt Hummel monster department government Tokyo City in shopping. Hummel employment at government from [##/##/##] to manage Puckzilla angry big destruction.

Refrigerator machine, cotton, needle, and lot of Hummel shopping.

Seen everyone the last of Puckzilla big destruction? Monster department Tokyo says sky blue and everybody happy, Puckzilla responded to expert Hummel exercises. Big story news channel 70 and footage shops [#######].

.

* * *

.

_He thinks it's only fair really, considering just how patient Puckzilla had been while Kurt dragged him from one end of the street to the other and back again. If he just so happens to want to experiment a little... Well, that's just good timing. It's not his fault Puckzilla looks particularly good without that loincloth._

_Though, Kurt smirks, that (freakin' giant) erection may be his fault._

.

* * *

.

"Say I accept your apology," Kurt said, and tilted his head back far enough that he was looking up at the lizard-man's chin. The human smirked a little. "How are you planning on making it up to me?"

Puckzilla huffed, his breath warm and shallow. "Not shopping," he said, clearly enough that Kurt actually understood it.

Startled, Kurt had to laugh. "No," he promised, chuckling, "next time you can just drop me off and pick me up when it's time to come home." The human was silent a moment, idly smoothing his hands over Puckzilla's forearm under the still, clear water. "You could... I don't know, experiment some more," he suggested airily.

He was going to take the sudden deep, rumbling purr as a yes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: Puckzilla Stole My Best Friend  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla, Mercedes  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: This chapter is not as cracky as the others.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: Mercedes finally gets that call.

* * *

The past few months had been nothing but stress and fretting, all mixed in with wondering what the hell was going on. Mercedes felt like she'd spent most of the last eight weeks either on the phone or obsessively checking news websites, facebook, and her email. The world hadn't stopped just because her best friend had been kidnapped, though sometimes (especially those Thursday nights when she spent dinner with the Hummel-Hudsons) she really wished it had. Sometimes she felt guilty for telling Kurt that yes he should go on that business trip to Japan, that now was the perfect time to start showcasing his fashions worldwide and that a contract in Japan would be a very lucrative deal.

Logically she knew that Kurt would have gone whether she advised him to or not. Her pep talks in the week before his flight had done nothing more than help keep his confidence in top form.

And then all of this happened.

Kurt had called her in the morning and mentioned some sort of odd lizard-related disturbance, and then the next thing she knew it was in the news that an American named Kurt Hummel had disappeared from his hotel in Tokyo and hadn't been seen since. Suddenly Mercedes was running her best friend's business, trying to keep the small company producing the same amount of profit while simultaneously calling every department and service she could find to figure out what had happened.

The news that did come wasn't heartening. She was there when Burt Hummel received falsely-sympathetic placations from both the American consulate in Japan and a suit from the foreign office. Kurt was apparently employed by the Japanese government, had been granted 'retroactive citizenship' and would contact them when he saw fit.

She wasn't even going to mention all of the crazy shit she'd seen on the internet about what had supposedly taken her best friend.

Mercedes swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, cursing the office thermostat that had somehow gotten it in its head to only work at either boiling hot or freezer cold, and clicked to the next page of the .pdf file she was reading over. Normally this kind of organisational work didn't bother her at all, but lately this side of the business had been bugging her. Hummel Designs just didn't work the same without Kurt Hummel.

She was starting to think about taking a break for an iced coffee and maybe one of the most disgustingly fattening donuts she could find (it was one of those days) when a little box blinked into existence in the bottom right of her computer screen.

'Video chat request from K_Hummel. Accept/Decline?'

There was no contest. Mercedes clicked 'accept'. She was expecting to see her best friend looking haggard, maybe thin and tired after some kind of terrible mistreatment. The Kurt Hummel that appeared in the chat window was instead immaculately groomed, dressed in what was clearly the latest fashion trends in Tokyo city, and smiling at her.

"Hi Mercedes," Kurt's voice came through her speakers a split second behind the movement of his lips. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to contact you but my phone is irreparably lost and I only just figured out how to use one of these internet cafe terminals."

"Kurt!" Shocked, ecstatic, and suddenly very annoyed, Mercedes couldn't quite decide if she wanted to beam at her friend or yell at him for worrying her. She settled on something in between. "Are you ok? Everyone's been worried sick about you! We were so scared that something had happened, nobody would give us a straight answer about what was going on."

"I know, I'm sorry. It was complicated on this end too."

"Complicated! Half of what we heard was that you were kidnapped by a giant lizard!"

"Well..." Kurt looked a little sheepish, but stuck his chin out stubbornly. "I was. Apparently I hold the honour of being the first person Puckzilla hasn't immediately wanted to crush or fling into a concrete wall. There's also more to it than that, but I'll give you the details in a moment... That," Kurt added, when a link popped up in the chat box below his image, "is the link to the English version of Puckzilla on Wikipedia."

Looking doubtful, Mercedes clicked on the link and was immediately greeted by a slightly blurry photo of a man-lizard-thing. The caption said _Puckzilla, 6th Feb_.

"Is this for real?" Mercedes asked, giving Kurt a weird look.

"On my life I swear it is," Kurt replied. "If you scroll half way down there's a nice photo of me on his shoulder. It's quite a good view from there actually."

Mercedes scrolled down the page until she found the heading Kurt Hummel, with the subheadings Official Employment, Interaction, and Personal. On the right hand side there was indeed a photo of Kurt sitting on the lizard-man's shoulder, looking perfectly at ease and clearly saying something to the creature. "No. Way." Mercedes stated, quickly skimming the article's information. "No way! Kurt! You're living with a lizard monster in a mountain! Are you _crazy_?"

"Sometimes I wonder," Kurt admitted, lips pursed as if hiding a smile.

"So, what? We – me, your dad, your stepmom, Finn – we've all been here worried sick and you've been off playing psychologist with something out of a sci-fi movie! Boy, I am not approving of this career choice."

"I'm really sorry about that. Actually, that's why I called you. I wanted to let you know that I'll be coming into the city much more often now, so I can actually keep in touch with you all. I want to start working again," Kurt added, giving her a hopeful smile. "I have everything I need to keep designing, as well as the ability to conference in three or four times a week. That is, if... I assume you've been running the business?"

"I have," Mercedes said dryly. "Your office heating is broke."

"Mercedes, you are the most beautiful and talented woman that I know. I'm also sleeping with him. If anyone can handle running the company in an office with broken heating it's you and your amazingly talented self."

Despite herself Mercedes felt the flattery thaw her mood a little. She smiled. "Hun, flattery is a bad habit. But that doesn't mean I want you to... Wait, what?" She blinked. "What was that part you said in the middle?"

Kurt clicked his tongue. "Mercedes, my minutes have almost run out. Can you tell dad I'll call him as soon as I can? I love all of you, I miss you, and I promise I'll be keeping in touch from now on."

"Kurt! _Kurt_! Don't you dare leave on me now, mister! Kurt!"

"Bye Mercedes, Love you."

Kurt beamed at her, then logged off, leaving her sitting there alone in her office chair staring at the chat window. "Boy," she told the screen, unimpressed, "you are in so much trouble when I get my hands on you."

Now might just be an excellent time for that iced coffee after all. "Just my luck," Mercedes muttered to herself as she grabbed her handbag and stomped out of her office and to the elevator, "that I'd go into business with a gay xenophile who managed to get his self kidnapped by some big green fool _and_ hang up on me before I can yell at him for it. I am not gonna be the one who tells his dad."


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: Puckzilla Stole My Best Friend  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**: Kurt, Puckzilla, OC  
**Genre**: Comedy/Crack  
**Warning**: This chapter is not as cracky as the others.  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own it and I'm not making any money from it, this is pure entertainment and not intended to offend.  
**Notes**: This chapter is set about two years into the future and technically isn't part of the story. I'm publishing it here and not on its own because it does deal with the same universe and I'd rather keep all of it together.

* * *

**THE EXCLUSIVE; IT'S NOT EASY BEING GREEN,  
****My Experience Interviewing Kurt Hummel.**

You might have heard one of the rumours, that fashion icon Kurt Hummel is in fact somehow dating a creature that rightfully belongs in the sci-fi section of your local video store. Well readers, it's time to put those rumours to rest in the first ever exclusive interview conducted solely in Hummel's Mt. Fuji home in Japan. I contacted Kurt several weeks ago after the amazing success of his Milan showstoppers and was amazed when, just last week, I found a reply sitting in my inbox offering me this exclusive opportunity to interview the fashion designer in his own home.

Absolutely floored, half convinced it was a joke; I rushed to my editor and demanded to know which of the jokers in the office had put this in my in tray. Much to her surprise, and mine, the letter turned out to be genuine! Somehow, through some miracle involving a mad taxi driver, a MasterCard, and a good dose of luck, I found myself on the next available flight to Japan. The plane was crowded and bustling as I wracked my brains for questions to ask, simultaneously trying to recall if I had remembered to pack the spare battery for my digital camera. Sixteen hours later when I arrived at Tokyo airport I was exhausted, excited, and already amazed by the vibrancy and colour of the culture I had walked into.

The very first thing I did after making it through customs was to dial the number Hummel had provided. The fashionista was just as cordial over the phone as he was on paper, his musical voice friendly and warm. He laughed pleasantly when I asked whether we were still on for tomorrow afternoon.

'You might change your mind when you see where I live,' he joked. 'You might change your mind when you see who I live _with_!'

I booked my shuttle from Tokyo at the last minute, barely scraping by before the ticket purchase deadline, and made my way to the nearest available hotel with a vacancy. I don't know how I made it through those ten hours before I needed to be at the shuttle station. Somehow I did, and at seven in the morning I found myself boarding the shuttle to majestic Mt. Fuji. The shuttle trip took an hour, with a further hour spent travelling up the tourist trails until I reached the fork in the path that Kurt had indicated would lead to his home.

The path was nothing more than a dirt track, the earth packed tight beneath my sturdy hiking boots. I followed the trail for almost half an hour before I came to a ledge with one of the most unusual little gardens I had ever seen. I stopped to catch my breath and examine the hodgepodge of plant life. It wasn't until I noticed the small wrought iron table and chairs sitting by a large Japanese pear tree that I realised I must have found Kurt's home.

I turned slowly about, looking for an entrance. I'm embarrassed to admit it took me longer than it should have to realise that the gigantic, looming entrance of a cave system was actually the door to Kurt Hummel's house. In fact, I was shocked to discover that the cave itself was Kurt's house.

I approached the cave filled with caution and camera at the ready. Pausing at the cave mouth I called out as politely as I could, only to be answered by Kurt's musical voice telling me to come straight in. So I did.

My first impression of the cave was 'huge', quickly followed by the assessment that its decor was stylish, but minimalist. I could see only the basics of furniture scattered about the place, much of the cave dominated by wide open spaces and rock formations covered in plush green moss. The cave was surprisingly bright, lit by sunlight that filtered in through a natural skylight, the light reflected by the waters of a calm, mysterious pool. Kurt himself was seated in a purple leather recliner in what I deemed the 'coffee nook', stunning in a simple red turtleneck and black slacks. I could see no evidence of his mysterious boyfriend.

'Please,' Kurt said, indicating the matching two-seater couch placed at an angle near his chair, 'make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink? I'm afraid I don't have a lot of choices unless you like coffee.'

I declined the drink, though I noted the custom espresso counter and made a note to snap a quick photo before I left. 'You must like coffee,' I joked, 'I've never seen anyone with an espresso counter in their home.'

Kurt smiled. 'That's a story and a half. Puckzilla got it for me, he just brought the whole thing home one day and it's been there ever since. The real story is how it runs,' he chuckled, 'I've never actually been able to find a power outlet in here, or a way to connect it to any sort of water system.'

Now exposed to Kurt's sense of humour I let the joke break the ice and chuckled with him. 'So who is this mysterious Puckzilla we've been hearing about?'

'Puckzilla is... hard to describe.' Kurt paused, a thoughtful look on his face. 'I suppose what you really need to know first is that he's sweet. He's not nearly as intimidating as he looks, secretly he's just a big softie. He's my partner,' Kurt nodded, 'or, he would say 'life-mate'. The last of his kind. I think he was quite sad before he met me.'

'There's been a lot of speculation about what, and who, he actually is...'

'Well, I can put that to rest right now,' Kurt assured me, hands clasped together in his lap. 'You've probably heard the rumour that Puckzilla is a fourteen foot tall green lizard-man monster previously known for his destructive rampages throughout Tokyo.'

I hadn't at this point in time, but later talks with my editor would confirm that this was indeed a fairly common rumour in some circles. At the time I simply chuckled lightly as if I knew what he was talking about and did my best to suppress my shock when he continued.

'Well he is,' Kurt stated. 'Actually he's closer to just twelve feet tall, but that's a matter of semantics. The fact is that he is indeed a giant green lizard-man. He is also the last of his species, which might be some comfort to people who would otherwise fear an invasion of giant green men... Or it might be a disappointment; I confess I'm a little out of touch with modern American conspiracy nuts.'

'And...' I asked, still at that moment convinced that this was an elaborate practical joke. 'Where is Puckzilla this morning?'

'He goes hunting in the mornings. He should be back in just,' a quick glance at his wrist watch, 'fifteen minutes or so. Actually, that's why I felt it was best to conduct this interview in the morning. I know Puckzilla can be very intimidating if you're not expecting him.'

'Alright,' I agreed, deciding to humour him for the moment. 'Can you tell me about your... dwelling? It's very unusual.'

'Originally this was Puckzilla's bachelor cave. After I decided to move in on a permanent basis obviously we made some changes. It's quite comfortable now that the cave is equipped with all of the modern amenities. Except for a bed,' Kurt laughs, 'you have no idea how unusually comfortable all of that moss is.'

'You don't find that living this far away from the city affects your ability to work?'

'Not at all. You can't see it from here, but I actually have a sewing room up there on that ledge.' The ledge he indicated was too high up to see the top of, but I could clearly see the stairs carved into the rock that would lead to the top. 'I do all of my design work there,' Kurt continued, 'and I make trips to the city three times a week to discuss business and keep updated with the company. A lot of my time there is spent on the phone or in front of a computer. It's surprisingly efficient, especially with my best friend Mercedes for a business partner.'

'This season your go-to colours have all been shades of green and purple,' I began, about to ask whether his new home had any bearing on his inspiration when, all of a sudden, an enormous creature ducked through the cave entrance. I admit I must have looked fairly shocked, and there's a long silence on my digital voice recorder to indicate just how awkward those next few moments must have been.

As I watched the creature straightened into a full height of at least twelve feet, if not more. It was indeed shaped like a man with some lizard-like features, the most notable of which was a long tail that swayed back and forth through the air like a cat's.

'Puckzilla?' I asked, embarrassed by the way my voice squeaked.

'Yes,' the creature answered decisively, a very human smirk on its lips.

'Darling,' Kurt interrupted, 'why don't you give the poor reporter some air? You have a tendency to shock and terrify everyone who hasn't met you before.'

Puckzilla nodded and, still smirking, retreated to a distant corner of the cave to watch from a distance. I admit it took me some time to regain my composure before I happened to continue. 'You've been using a lot of green and purple, can you tell me about your inspiration this season?'

'He doesn't eat people,' Kurt answered a completely different question, the one I must have been asking with my eyes. 'Yes, he can speak. Two languages, in fact. Three, if you count his native language. No, I'm not sure exactly how old he is and no, I will not discuss our sex life. You can tell anyone who believes that I'm going to hell for consorting with demons or engaging in unnatural congresses or whatever it is I'm sure they'll say, that I'm quite alright with that outcome – I'm certainly not going to change my mind or alter my lifestyle to appease them.'

Bold words from a very bold young man. I was impressed, and said so.

'I'm not hurting anyone with my choices,' Kurt explained. 'The only person who might be hurt by them is myself, and I'm more than able to admit responsibility if that happens. I can't help if my being with Puckzilla offends people. A lot of people are offended by human same sex couples, or even heterosexual couples of different races. As long as both people are adults and able to consent, I don't believe there should be any barriers to love. Incidentally,' he added with a chuckle, 'Japan seems to think our relationship is wonderful. Since I came into Puckzilla's life Tokyo has never been more peaceful.'

After that we chatted about various other topics an as we talked I became more comfortable with the idea of Kurt and Puckzilla.

'Puckzilla should actually be written Puck Zilla,' Kurt explained at one point. 'Puck is his name, while Zilla is his species. The two words became fused together after years of identifying him as 'Puck Zilla' rather than just Puck.'

When I gathered enough courage to actually ask the man/creature in question he replied with a shrug; 'Puckzilla is fine. It's the way I'm known already, it can stay that way.'

I left the cave at one o'clock in the afternoon, after a lunch comprised of a garden salad and round, flat, greenish rolls that tasted mildly spicy and which Puckzilla claimed were 'traditional, only smaller'. My perceptions had been fundamentally changed and I left Mt. Fuji without the article about fashion and culture that I had expected.

Somehow I can't be upset about that.

**Marina Cohen**, journalist for Glamour Touch magazine.


End file.
